A Grey Halloween
by AshBax
Summary: A fun story of Halloween night with the Grey family, told by Christian.
1. Chapter 1

**_This is is Part One of my Grey Halloween Story. Hope you enjoy! xo_**

"That's not the Beast, that's Chewbacca!" I say to Taylor, who's holding up the mammoth wooly Halloween costume in front of my desk at my office. Costume is putting it lightly. That's like saying Big Foot is fun sized like those candies the kids will get trick-or-treating tonight. I can barely see Taylor past the ratted tufts of what's supposed to be fur but looks more like shreds of old rug a dog went to town on. How the fuck can I walk the neighborhood in that thing? "I specifically ordered Beauty and the Beast costumes for tonight, not Star Wars!

"This is what they sent over."

"That's not an acceptable answer."

I buzz Andrea out front.

"Yes, Mr. Grey?" Andrea doesn't hesitate to answer. I like that in employees; I have a zero hesitation clause. Especially in response to my buzzing.

"Andrea, get me the costumer on the line."

"What customer?"

"Cos-tu-mer!" I say louder and with syllabic definition. "The Halloween guy." He came with the highest recommendations and referrals. Supposedly the mayor uses him, although I've never seen the mayor dress up as anything other than an asshole in public. Perhaps he does more private engagements. I didn't delve further.

"Right away, Mr. Grey."

I hang up and turn back to Taylor.

"They're similar, sir," Taylor says, looking the thing straight in the jaw. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was attacking him.

"They're not similar! The beast is much better looking and he has classical training."

"Maybe he just appears different in person, sir."

"I've watched that movie with Phoebe 127 times! I know my beast!" Phoebe requested that Ana and I go as these characters. I don't want to disappoint her.

"That was a cartoon. Real life is different, sir." Thank you, Taylor for that life lesson. Why the fuck does he sound like Flynn?

"He has no clothes! I can't go around the neighborhood asking for candy as a naked Beast!"

"I don't remember what he wears."

"It's famous! That blue tuxedo jacket with the tails that he waltzes around with Belle in."

"Does he wear pants?"

"Of course he does. It's a Disney movie."

"Donald Duck doesn't wear pants."

"What the fuck is your point?"

"Animals don't always wear pants in these things."

"Well I'm sure as hell going to wear pants!" He nods profusely in agreement. "Besides, he's not an animal, he's a man caged in a beast's body who just needs the love of a good woman to set him free before all the petals on his flower fall off."

"It is a lovely story, sir."

"I told you I saw it 127 times." And I lived it once upon a time.

"I'll find the correct clothes."

"Don't bother. It won't matter."

"Why's that, sir?"

"Because it's not the Beast, it's Chewbacca!" I grab the costume and shake it for dramatic effect.

Andrea buzzes me and I answer.

"Yes?"

"Gunther Imperial is on line one."

"Who the hell is Gunther Imperial?" It sounds like a Swedish superhero who strips for side cash.

"Your costumer."

"That's no customer of mine!"

"Cos-tu-mer!" Of course.

I click over to line one.

"Is the groin too tight?" Gunther asks before I can get a word out. He sounds like he just sucked a balloon.

"What did you just ask me?"

"It felt snug when I was making it, but I didn't want it to sag. If it's too tight just pull at the crotch a few times fast to release some pressure." What the fuck is this conversation I'm having?

"I haven't tried it on yet."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's a wookie!"

"A what-ie?"

"A wookie. The wookie. From Star Wars!"

"Correct."

"What do you mean, 'correct'?"

"You requested Chewbacca and Belle."

"No, I fucking did not!"

"But, it's written down."

"Let me ask you something, Gunner..."

"Gunther."

"Do I sound like I care?"

"No, but it's still Gunther." Little shit.

"Why the fuck would I choose Chewbacca and Belle costumes to go together?"

"I don't judge love."

"Well, I judge brains and you have none. Get me the Beast!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm all tapped out because it's Halloween. But, I can get you a free Santa Claus for three days before Christmas. I'm all tapped out on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, too. So, you'll have to return it fast." He's all tapped out in a lot of areas of his life.

"Don't bother. I'm already going as the Grinch who's going to steal the fuck out of your Christmas via lawsuit."

I hang up. "Fuck."

"What does the lawsuit entail, sir?" Taylor asks.

"I don't know yet. I'll have Welch find something on him." I turn to Taylor. "Are the other costumes ready?"

"Affirmative. They were dropped less than an hour ago. Phoebe's Princess Elsa, Teddy's Nemo, Mrs. Grey's Belle... Why does he sound like he's talking about a missile launch? Why do I feel like it is one?

"Who would have thought when you first started working for me that I'd have a regular Disney family?

"Of all the thoughts that crossed my mind, Mr. Grey, that's not one." He smiles.

"Now, let's talk business. Do you have the map?"

"Yes, sir." He pulls out the map of our neighborhood at large from his pocket and spreads it out on my desk. "The houses outlined in green passed background checks."

"What are the yellow ones?"

"Pending."

"Fuck 'em. If they can't pass immediately, I can't trust their candy." I survey the properties drawn out. Hoffsteader is a yellow... I always knew he was a shady bastard. "And we can't just take a passed background check at face value."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"We need to keep our eyes and ears peeled and open at all times. Just because you pass a background check doesn't mean you aren't a psychopath behind closed doors."

"Yes, sir."

"There's always a first offense and this is the night that brings it out of them."

"Will be on high alert, Mr. Grey."

"Now, I figure this will be our route." I pull out my red sharpie pen from the the holder on my desk and start to draw our path. "We'll start out at 5:54 pm at the the Derwins. They're idiots, but harmless and they give large handfuls if you come early. Allow a little extra time for Grandma to admire the kid's outfits." I swear, it takes that woman twenty minutes just to lift her glasses that hang on that chain around her neck from her breasts to her face. "Then we make our way south across their lawn until we end up at the Mortimers. They're cagey, so keep an eye on their hands. I think they steal when they act like they're putting in."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"One candy in the bag, five out." Last year I caught a lone Snickers in their generic brand candy mix. Where the hell did that come from? Oh, I know. Joe Mortimer is a cheap son of a bitch. He's the kind of guy who celebrates Christmas a week late so he can grab a free tree off the street. "We just need to make sure he doesn't spend too long in anyone's sack." I hear his wife says the same thing.

"What about the Reardons?" Taylor asks. Oh god, not them. Their name is fitting since they're the biggest assholes of Halloween.

"They only give toothbrushes and percentage off cards for their orthodontics side business." Dr. Reardon uses Halloween as an excuse to proselytize about the evils of sugar to the entire community and rack up patients in the process.

"But, he's the children's dentist."

"We'll wave and make an appointment." I mark his house out with a big X. "We should be through the neighborhood in an hour."

"It's quite a large area, sir. I'm not sure we can hit all these houses...," he points to the distance between lots. "In an hour."

"Don't be a Negative Nancy."

"And you're only allowing for twenty minutes at the nursery school party."

"That's all we'll need." Christ, if I have to be around all those horny hippie mothers in a naked Chewbacca outfit longer than that, I may not survive. Thank God Ana will be by my side. I couldn't do this night without her.

"But, Mr. Grey-"

"Trust me Taylor, the plan is solid. Aside from this Chewbacca mess, Halloween is going to run like clockwork."

########

"Ana!" I say, making my way through the front door. "I'm home."

Out of nowhere something flies at me, nearly taking me out at the ankles and knocking me off my feet. It takes me a moment or two to realize it's my six year old son driving his mini Audi SUV like a bat escaping hell through the foyer.

"Teddy, what are you doing?" I ask, following his fender into the great room as he does laps around the furniture.

"Picking up trash," he says, like it's an everyday occurrence. Which, unfortunately it is not. Pressing the brakes, he picks up my copy of _Time_ off the coffee table and throws it in the backseat of his vehicle.

"That's my magazine! Why would you throw that away?"

"Mommy says it's all the same old junk in these things." He's right.

"Yes, but Daddy wants to read the junk first." I kneel and reach into his open back seat window and pull it out, returning it to where he found it, only this time it's got a wet sucker attached to the cover where Putin's left eye is supposed to be. He's got a mess of stuff in there: newspapers, empty juice boxes, a half eaten donut whose powdered remnants are suspiciously all over his face. If I didn't know any better I'd think he was auditioning for that show on hoarders. "What is all this?"

"I told you, Daddy. The trash."

"Well first rule as a Grey man, keep the trash out of your Audi. Second, keep the Audi in the garage. And third, why are you picking up the trash in your Audi?"

"That's not a rule, it's a question." God, he's so much like his mother.

"You're right. And I make the rules, so answer it."

Before he can, I hear Phoebe squeal as she runs down the hall dressed in her Princess Elsa getup, sans shoes.

"Teddy stealed Chester's slippers," she says, pointing a finger at the culprit in the Audi. Chester, her hamster. The one who seeks my blood. She's holding the little fucker who's dressed in a purple velour bathrobe with some sort of matching hat that looks like a turban.

"Chester has slippers?" I ask. She nods, sniffling tears.

"They're white and fuzzy and go with his costume."

"What's he dressed as?"

"A movie star."

"In a bathrobe?"

She nods. "He's waiting in his dresser's room with his name on door to be filmed to be famous. But, he can't walk to the cameras on the outside 'cause his foots is naked and he would maybe get sick or cut his toes on rocks." I think I made out four words of that.

"Did you do this?" I ask Teddy, pointing to the rodent reincarnation of Lawrence Olivier's naked feet.

"Uh huh," he nods. Didn't even try to deny it. Points for that.

"Why?"

"They looked like something to throw away." Fair enough.

"Why are you throwing away everything?"

"'Cause I'm the trash man and it's my job tonight, 'cause it's my costume."

"What about Nemo?"

"I don't want to be a fishy." He crosses his arms, sticks out his lips and pouts, ironically giving a first class fishy face. "I want to throw out the trash."

"Tell you what, you can clean out the garage tomorrow, tonight you're a fish!"

"Daddy find Chester's slippers! His foots is cold," Phoebe cries. Chester flashes his little teeth at me in threat. What am I, his Hollywood assistant?

I open the back door, reaching through the mess. By the grace of God I find one stuck in the seatbelt. The next is more difficult to track. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack. It's worse than the lost Barbie shoe fiasco last Christmas that had me on hands and knees for an hour searching through a sea of wrapping paper, under pine branches and between rug threads only to discover it never left the box.

"I found it!" I holler, feeling like I struck gold as I pull a fuzz ball from a half empty jelly jar. It's grape, so it'll match the robe. "He's got both slippers now. Tell him to walk to work." I hand it to her and she frowns.

"He's got four foots, Daddy." Oh right. I reach back in.

"You aren't going as a trash man, Teddy. No Grey picks up trash," I say as I dig through the rubbish. I find one more! "And no trash man drives an Audi."

"Is it bad to be a trashy person, Daddy?"

"Yes, on all counts." I find the last slipper. "Here it is!" I show it to Phoebe.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Phoebe says, jumping up and down as I give it to her. She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek, moving Chester closer to my neck where I can feel his twitching nose sniffing my flesh in preparation for attack.

I lean back from the little monster. "Maybe if Chester gets really famous he can go to Hollywood to live forever."

"You're silly, Daddy!" Phoebe giggles, just like her mother, which delights me.

"Why can't I be a trash man?" Teddy's now crying. Why is he still on this? Maybe I should tell him he can't clean up his room next time, he'll be begging to do it.

"Why do you want to be a garbage collector so bad?"

He stops his crying, looks at me and in all seriousness says, "Cause then I don't got to take a bath. A trash man's job is to wear dirt."

"Teddy, did you take my oven mitts?" Gail asks, approaching from the kitchen. Thank the Lord, I need help out here. "Oh, Mr. Grey, I didn't know you were home yet."

"I think your mitts are in his back seat." I pull them out and hand them to her, then look to Teddy. "Take your car back to the garage."

He starts it up begrudgingly and motors off for the yard.

"Where's Ana?" I ask Gail.

"In the master suite. She was trying on her costume for tonight." She's alone in our bedroom trying on her costume... My cock twitches. If it could somersault it would.

"I'm going to check on her, Gail." Maybe I'll catch her before the ball gown is on. She's been teasing me with the lingerie she's chosen to wear underneath. She said she'd show me before we left so it will drive me insane all night knowing what's under her dress for me to rip off of her when we get home. I've been fantasizing about that yellow hoop skirt over my head for days. "Will you watch the kids? I'm going to help Mrs. Grey with her costume."

"Yes, sir," she says, smiling as she catches my drift and takes Phoebe's hand. "Come along, we'll frost the cupcakes for tonight."

I make my way up the stairs. I have a cupcake of my own to frost.

#######

"Ana?" I call out, stepping inside our bedroom. I don't see her, but I know she's here. There's soft music playing and the scent of her perfume is still fresh. I inhale the floral aroma touched with vanilla as I walk to her closet. I see the clothes she wore this morning laid out on the chaise lounge in her dressing room and the empty costume bag hanging on her closet door. There's also an empty La Perla lingerie bag on the floor. She's in character. I smile with wicked intent and call for her again. Beast needs his Belle.

"I'm in here, Christian," she calls back to me from the bathroom, her voice heralding me like a siren. Only she has the power to give me an erection by just saying my name.

I turn the corner and stop suddenly, my breath taken from me as I see her through the parted bathroom door. She's a princess, my princess, standing there in her yellow ball gown, the sleeves capped at her shoulders and the satin cupping her breasts in just the right way. Gunther Imperial did something right when he made that dress. And so did God when he made her.

"You are so beautiful," I say, moving to her in awe that such an angel and a naughty minx can be wrapped up in one girl and that that girl is mine. I reach around her waist and pull her into my arms, my mouth finding place of worship on her neck. She moans. "You are so sweet."

"Christian," she says hoarse and breathy as I taste my way to her ear.

"I need to fuck you," I whisper, nibbling her lobe.

She turns in my arms, her ringlets spilling onto her shoulders as she gazes into my eyes. Her chest heaving and a flush painted across the apples of her cheeks.

"I need..." she breathes. "I need..."

"Tell me what you need baby..." I move my hand down her chest and across the satin covering her nipple, brushing the hardening peak with my thumb.

"I need to vomit." Still in my arms, she bends over the toilet that's next to us and hurls.

"Ana!" Without hesitation, I hold her hair as she falls to her knees and continues to empty the contents of her stomach, which doesn't appear to be the first drop, into the ceramic bowl. I'm having flashbacks of that first night at that bar in the flower bed. But, this time it's not alcohol I'm seeing, it's a lot of rice. Finally she stops her heaving. I help her to her feet where she stands quiet for a moment, holding her stomach as if to settle it. I take a monogrammed hand towel and wipe her mouth with it. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I had sushi for lunch," she grimaces. That explains the rice.

"Where?"

"The farmer's market." Unsteady, she loses her balance and I move in quickly to hold her up.

"Oh Ana, why would you do that? You know how I feel about you eating raw, mercury laden seafood from unregulated open air facilities." I've told her a thousand times, but she never listens. I flush the toilet to de-vomitize the smell of the room.

"Kate took me to lunch. It must've been bad, because ever since I ate that spicy tuna roll I've been sick as a dog." Of course, Kavanagh. She and bad tuna go hand in hand.

"Why didn't you call and tell me?"

"That I was going to sushi with Kate?"

"That you were sick." Although, if she would've told me beforehand of her plans I would've steered her toward sandwiches in her office alone with a FaceTime call and she'd be fine now.

"I didn't want you to overreact."

"I wouldn't have overreacted! I would've stopped everything, come home and rushed you to the hospital."

"Exactly."

"That's not overreacting, that's taking care of my wife. You have no regard for your own well being." I swear she could be run over by car, bleeding her guts out in the road and she'd say all she needed was a band aid and a ride back to work.

"I'm feeling much better already."

"Good. Get out of this dress, I'm taking you to bed." I turn her around and start to unlace the back.

"But, not quite better enough for _that_."

"No, not _that_." What kind of beast, no pun intended, does she think I am? "I'm putting you to bed to rest." I peel the satin off her shoulders and the skirt drops to the floor, revealing the lingerie meant to drive me wild underneath- white lace corset, pink ribbons, blush garters with matching silk thigh highs and no panties. Fuck, she's killing me with the no panties. Her breasts look so full in this ensemble, I have to bite my tongue so I won't use it on them as I undress her and replace heaven-on-earth with my Harvard rowing tee.

"But, it's Halloween," she says, as I pick her up and carry her to our bed.

"You're not going anywhere feeling the way you do." I fluff her pillows- Ana's a two fluff, one pat kind of girl- and tuck her in.

"I'll be okay. It comes and it goes."

"Well, I don't want for you to come and for it to go all over one of our idiot neighbor's lawns." I stroke her hair. "You need to take care of yourself. I have half a mind to get a doctor over here right now."

"No, it's just a little food poisoning."

"Just like they thought the Titanic was just a little crash into a little iceberg. Or World War II was just a little war or polio was just a little crippling..."

"But, Christian-"

"No, 'buts'. You're staying home, in bed."

"Then you have to do it without me."

"Do what without you?"

"Trick-or-treating with the kids."

"Ana, I won't leave you."

"But, they've been looking forward to this for weeks." She's right, they have. So have I...

"But, Ana-"

"You don't want to disappoint them," she gives me those doe eyes as she says the magic words. Neither of us wants to disappoint them. Ever.

I sigh, putting a finger to her lips that she gently kisses.

"Okay."

"You'll go?"

"Yes, under one condition. You take care of yourself and I'll take care of Halloween."

"Deal." She smiles, then the happy turns to funny and not funny ha-ha. "Now, I need to take care of myself over the toilet." She flies out of bed and darts to the bathroom and I follow behind as her ever loyal hair holder.

Fuck. This night isn't shaping up to what I thought.

#######

"What's wrong with Ana?" Grace asks from the other end of my cell. I'm talking to her in the den while Taylor helps me step into my costume.

"Food poisoning from some sushi joint that I'm going to have the health department shut down." I look to Taylor who's trying to fit my toes into the limited foot space inside the paws. "Just shove it in!" I whisper shout to him.

"I can't." As he pushes, my toes tangle on the matted hair.

"Why is there so much fur down there?"

"I'm not sure."

"Can you cut it off?"

"It'll damage the costume."

"I don't have time for nonsense. I need to get it in!" I kick my foot forward and force it inside, ripping some material in the process.

"Don't try anything with Ana if she's sick," my mother says, sounding alarmed.

"What?" Oh, she's heard bits of the conversation. Does she think so poor of me? "I'm not talking to Ana, I'm talking to Taylor."

The line falls silent.

"He's dressing me."

Still silent.

"We're putting on my costume. I have to take the kids trick-or-treating alone tonight."

"Be sure to wear comfortable shoes!" Comfortable shoes? There's not even room for my toes, let alone sneakers.

"Sir, could you turn to the left a bit?" Taylor asks, as we both work to shimmy the thing over my ass. I turn, but it's not helping. Gunther wasn't kidding when he said the crotch was tight.

"Would you check in on Ana tonight, Mom? I hate leaving her here like this."

"Of course, I'll be by in an hour or so. I'm sure she's fine. Have fun with my babies!"

"Try squeezing your rear to narrow it," Taylor says. I clench my cheeks, but it's slow going.

"Yes, Mom. We'll have fun." As soon as I can get this damn thing ahead of my behind. "And call me if anything happens with Ana."

"I will. Elliot and Kate are taking Ava to the nursery school party." Oh great, Kavanagh. I'll give her an earful about Ana and sushi-gate.

"Wonderful."

"Elliot says he wants to surprise you with his costume." What the fuck? The last time he surprised me with a costume I was ten and dressed as a banker. He dressed as an outlaw, robbed me of the candy in my banker bucket and shot silly string at my face. Fucker. I'm still not over that.

"I'm on the edge of my seat." Maybe he and Kavanagh are coming as a porno version of Tweedle Dee and Dum. They wouldn't need costumes.

"I love you, son!"

"You, too, Mom."

I hang up. Taylor's still working on my ass.

"Jesus, Taylor. Why is the crotch so small?"

"It happens," he sighs. For a moment I don't think we're talking about costumes. I don't want to fucking know. "I'm going to give it one hard pull, Mr. Grey."

"Okay, I'm ready." I think. I grab onto the desk edge, holding my teeth and my ass in a simultaneous clench.

On the count of three, he yanks the thing up with military force, squeezing my balls in the process. It's a good thing we've already had our children, I think all my soldiers were killed in this battle.

"Fuck! Careful with the merchandise!"

"I think you're all in, Mr. Grey."

"At what cost?"

He holds up the paws. "Put your arms in the sleeves, sir."

I do and he zips it up from the back.

"This thing is 120 degrees inside!" I say, as sweat begins to drip beneath my fur.

"Wait." He moves to the sofa and digs through a bag that's sitting there. "I have your clothes, sir." More layers? Fuck. Maybe the Beast should go naked.

He pulls out a blue velvet jacket with gold buttons and Victorian tails, and a pair of some sort of stretchy black leggings.

"Are those tights?" I ask, pointing to the things. It looks like he took them straight out of Phoebe's closet.

"They're riding pants, sir. Equestrian."

"Like horses?"

He nods.

"The Beast doesn't ride."

"It's all they had left."

I begrudgingly put on the pants. They're so fucking small, I wonder if I'd be better off with Phoebe's tights. After several minutes of pulling and stretching, I finally adhere them to my wookie form and look in the mirror.

"I can't wear these!" My legs are like pencils, my ass looks huge and my ankles have enough hair on them to cover all the bald heads at an old folks' home.

"Try the coat on. It completes the outfit, sir." He helps me with the jacket. It's too small across the shoulders and too short in the sleeves. I look back in the mirror at the fucked up horrible mess I am. I've been planning since September. How did I get Halloween so wrong?"

"You're right, it completes it," I say, looking at my tragic reflection. "I'm now officially the George Washington of the Neanderthals."

"It's old English. The coat is parliamentary." Now, I see why we revolted. Anyone who makes laws in this thing should be shot.

"Where's my shirt?" I ask, looking at my bare wookie chest sticking out from my lapels.

"There was no shirt available, Mr. Grey."

"All I am is chest hair." And a lot of it. It's the kind of chest hair that attracts gold chains. The moms are going to attack me!

"Should I shop elsewhere for a shirt?" he asks.

I look at the clock. 5:44 pm! We have to hit the first house in ten minutes!

"Fuck it. We have to get out there. Get the SUV ready."

"Right away, Mr. Grey."

He exits and I follow behind in my Parliamentary Chewbacca Beast who owns a seventies disco costume. Oh what a night.

########

"Ahhhhhhhh!" Phoebe screams as I step into the kitchen where she, Teddy and Mrs. Taylor are readying the cupcakes for the school party.

"Phoebe, sweetie, it's me." I take off the mask. Sweat swimming down my face.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" she screams again. "Daddy got eaten by a monster!"

"No, honey. I'm the Beast!" But, even I don't feel conviction in my claim.

"That's not Beast!" she squeals. Chester flashes his teeth, preparing to defend her from the hairy footed imposter that is her sweat dripping father.

"That's Chewy!" Teddy says, like he's discovered gold, or rather his new obsession- trash. "Why is Chewy wearing tights?"

"I don't know, son. I don't know." I look at his outfit. He's wearing dirty overalls, a painter's cap and carrying an empty trash bag.

"Why do you have an empty trash bag?"

"To collect the candies in." My son is collecting treats in a garbage sack. I'll never live it down.

"Where's Mommy?" Phoebe asks.

"I have something to tell you kids. Mommy is sick."

"Is Mommy going to die?" Phoebe cries out. She's so over dramatic. She gets it from her father.

"No, she's not going to die. Mommy just ate some bad sushi." First world problems, I know.

"See, fish is bad, Dad," Teddy proclaims, still holding firm to his anti Nemo stance.

"I want Mommy!" Phoebe cries, stomping her red soled princess kitten heels.

"She's going to be fine. She just needs to rest tonight."

"Who's gonna be Belle?" Phoebe asks.

"Mommy's still Belle. She's just not an active one."

"Should I collect her candy for her?" Phoebe sniffles.

"That's a wonderful idea."

"Should I ask for soup?" Teddy asks.

"Ask who for soup?"

"The houses."

"Why would you do that?"

"Mommy always makes me eat soup with chicken juice when I'm sick."

"Where would you put soup?"

He scratches his head. "Tupperware."

"No chicken juice. Just candy."

"I'll make her soup if she wants it, Teddy," Gail says.

I look at the clock on the microwave. We're already a minute behind schedule. Grandma Derwin is going to have to lift those glasses off her breasts in record time.

"If we're going to get any candy at all, we better get a move on."

"I'm gonna get way more candy than you, Phoebe!" Teddy says. "I'm gonna fill the whole garbage sack!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes, I am!"

Phoebe punches Teddy in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Phoebe!" I yell. "Apologize to your brother!"

"Sorry I'm gonna get more candy."

Jesus, this is going to be a long night.

I planned on the perfect Disney family this Halloween. Instead I have a trash boy, a princess with a glorified rat in a bathrobe, a hodgepodge beast and a missing Belle. I rush the kids out the door, praying I'll survive this evening. But, I'm fearful. The night has only just begun...

 ** _To be continued on Halloween..._**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you sooo much for all of your reviews! I'm so happy you enjoyed and laughed! This story has one more part after this. Enjoy this and Happy Halloween! xo_**

"Are you Willie Nelson?" Old Man Derwin asks me as we stand on his porch steps holding out sacks for him to fill with candy. Phoebe has insisted I carry my own bag, which has an arched back black cat on it hissing at the moon. I'm not sure why the cat is so pissed at the moon. The moon has nothing on the idiot who thought up this holiday in the first place. Who was it? Satan? Because anyone who came up with a night where you walk for miles on end with your kids in ridiculous costumes, going house to house across wet lawns, begging for enough sugar to keep them up for seventeen days straight is straight from hell.

"How's that?" I ask. I can barely hear out of this thing. The only sounds I can clearly make out are sweat dripping off my eyebrows, my claustrophobic panting that sounds more Vader than Chewbacca, and the thud of my heart, all as a direct result of asphyxiation.

"Willie Nelson!" he shouts. Jesus, heard that one. So did the entire neighborhood. I half expect Willie to come running home for supper.

"Willie Nelson?" How the fuck does he think I'm Willie Nelson? I have hair on my ears and forehead. Come to think of it, maybe Willie does, too. But, since when did Willie Nelson ever wear a British parliamentary coat and hot pants?"

"Are your ears broken in there?" he asks.

"Kind of." I pull out some matted fur that got stuck in the ear hole. Ahh, better.

"Free the Willy!" Phoebe yells out at the top of her lungs.

"No, Phoebe! It's not Free _the_ Willy, it's just Free Willy!" She always gets the title inappropriately wrong.

"Why is that different, Daddy?" she scrunches her nose and looks up at me, scratching at her blonde Elsa wig that's now halfway off her head.

"I'll tell you when you're thirty." I'm not getting into that talk tonight. "And don't ever say that to a boy!" I try to straighten her wig, but my paws won't cooperate. I think I made it worse.

"What happened to Willie?" Derwin asks, oddly invested in his worry for the singer's well being.

"He got caughted in a net...," Phoebe explains, demonstratively using her hands. "And he had to jump in shows, which made him sad and do naughty and then a little boy who also did naughty one time said "No, no. He's not a bad one! He wants to be free." She twirls around. "But, mean, bad guys wanted their millions and millions of dollars, so Willy jumped biggest jump ever, tooted goodbye and swam with the fishes." She punctuates the story with a wave _bye-bye_. "Until he did number two."

"You said he did number two," Teddy says, laughing. He sounds just like Elliot.

"Is Willie Nelson dead?" Derwin asks.

"She's talking about the whale," I say, trying to clarify.

"You're a whale?" he asks.

"I'm a Beast. The Beast. From Beauty and the Beast." By way of a galaxy far, far away and the eighteenth century British government.

He just looks at me for a minute. The minute goes on so long, I momentarily think he's had a stroke.

"I still say you make a good Willie Nelson."

"I'll think about it for next year." Get me the fuck out of this place.

He puts a handful of candy in each sack. I have to say they're awfully generous with their loads, although they're quite Butterfinger heavy this year. I prefer a chocolate without all the crispy add-ons. Vanilla chocolate, so to speak. Vanilla... God, I miss, Ana. She wouldn't be wearing panties under her hoop skirt right now.

"My mommy needs candy," Phoebe says. "Put in more!"

"Phoebe, be polite," I say, looking down at her. She's a demanding little thing like her mother. I look back to Derwin. "She's collecting for my wife who has a stomach issue."

"Who are you collecting for?" Derwin asks, looking at my sack.

"Chester." I point to the robed rodent on Phoebe's shoulder.

"What's this? Ana's sick?" Grandma Derwin asks, shuffling out the door, her glasses hanging on that chain and resting on her enormous breasts. I can't keep my beady wookie eyes off of them. Not because they're attractive, but because they look like they might fall to the ground at any moment and explode.

"It's a little thing-" I say.

"She's got stomach problems," Derwin tells his old lady. "Probably ulcers. They're taking up a collection for her."

"No, we're not taking up a collection. And it's not ulcers. Phoebe's just getting extra to surprise her."

"She needs chicken juice, too!" Teddy says.

"Teddy, it's called soup. And she has enough of that at home."

"What about a banana loaf?" Grandma asks, struggling to find her nose as she lifts the glasses to her face. A banana loaf?

"That very kind of you, but-"

She scurries inside before I can finish talking and comes out with a loaf the size of a small bear. How does she just happen to have this on hand? She struggles with it, which tells me it's not light and fluffy and probably contains a lot of nut meat. Fitting.

"Give this to Ana," she says, handing it to me. I nearly drop it trying to balance it between my paws.

"Thank you, Mrs. Derwin. I'm sure she will love it." Halloween reminds me every year why I don't talk to the neighbors. I wouldn't even call them neighbors. Our property is so big, all these idiots are practically in another town.

"Look at these children!" she says, her glasses finally off her breasts and on her face. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Princess Elsa," Phoebe says. "And this is my movie star brother." She points to Chester, whose robe is halfway open, making him look like the Hugh Hefner of rodent-kind.

"I'm a trash man," Teddy says, proudly.

Suddenly there's gunfire! I throw myself over the kids in protection.

"Die! Die! Die!" The voice sounds more lispy kid than hardened criminal.

I look up to see a brace faced boy holding a space pistol with sound effects, dressed as some futuristic vigilante. I stand and give him the once over.

"What are you supposed to be?" I ask, as he continues to fire his pistol into my Chewy gut.

"The President of the Intergalactic Empire of the Plutonian-Martian Alliance!" He said that with so much projectile spit I almost thought it was raining.

"Hostile takeover, huh?" He just looks at me. "Come along, kids," I say to my own, ushering them away from the visiting outer space dictator. "We have a lot of ground to cover."

#######

"That house sucked!" Teddy says as we leave the Cole abode. Fitting, since that's probably what they give their kids for Christmas- coal.

"Teddy! Language!"

"All they gave is erasers with ponies on them."

"Well add them to your trash collection."

"Good idea!" He stuffs them delightedly into his trash bag.

"My feet hurt, Daddy!" Phoebe says, dragging her red soled kitten heels through the grass.

"It'll teach you to not wear your Louboutins long distances."

Talk about covering ground. More like covering mud and rocks and puddles the size of small lakes. Every step I take makes a gigantic, sloshy print. There's so much mud on my feet and legs I'm beginning to look like I escaped from a swamp. I wonder if early tomorrow morning someone will see my footprints and claim a Big Foot sighting. Or the Return of the Jedi.

Teddy jumps in a puddle, splashing his sister.

"Hey!" she shrieks and jumps in another one, splashing him right back.

"Stop with the splashing! You'll get dirty!"

"But, I'm a trash man. We're already dirty," Teddy says.

"Trash men pick up garbage, they don't live in it!"

"Can I carry your candy, sir?" Taylor asks, approaching us as we make our way to dry land that is the sidewalk. It's like we're in middle school and he's asking to carry my books.

"No, I'll manage with my own sack." I hand him the banana bread. "Carry my loaf."

"I got six butterfingers and a jolly rancher pop," Teddy tells Phoebe, looking at his loot.

"I got seven butters fingers and a sour melon stick." Phoebe looks up to me. "What do you got, Daddy?"

"Twenty-eight blisters and a headache."

"Hey, Grey!" Joe Mortimer yells from his porch, waving like an imbecile as we make our way up his walk. How the fuck did he recognize me? I guess the kids and Taylor.

"Joe." I nod. The cheap bastard wears the same shirt every year- a bright orange sweatshirt with black writing that says ' _I'm here for the Boos_ '. If he wasn't such an alcoholic, it might be funny.

"Love the biblical costume!" he says, with a thumbs up as we reach the door. "Are you Moses?"

"Nebuchadnezzar." I roll my eyes, but he can't see them behind my hairy brows.

"Oooh! That's a good one!" Idiot.

"What are you giving out this year?" I ask. Last year he gave out Snicks bars, which is the generic brand of Snickers and costs half as much. They try to fool you by similar packaging and writing, but it tastes like cardboard and ass peanuts.

"Nature's candy!" He holds up a bowl full of boxed raisins.

"Eww!" The kids say in unison. What kind of asshole gives raisins on Halloween?

"Here's one for the pretty princess," he puts one in Phoebe's bag, oblivious to the fact she's contorting her face in disgust. "And one for the Dutch boy," he puts one in Teddy's bag.

"Trash Man!" Teddy says, annoyed.

"And one for the Neo-Babylonian King." He puts his hand deep into my sack, holding it there for a few seconds too long.

"Hey! What are you doing in there?" I can feel his fingers moving around, like he's trying to decipher by touch what's in my load.

"Just making sure your raisins are secure in there." Yeah right. I know his game. He steals my shit every year. I assume because he's too cheap to buy his own name brand candy, he wants mine.

"Get your hand out of my sack," I say, pulling his wrist out fast and revealing the evidence of his crime. A Butterfinger between his butter fingers.

"Why are you holding my Butterfinger?"

"It must've gotten caught on my raisins." Yeah right. Just like that new iPod got caught in his pocket as he was leaving Electric City last August. Or his dick got caught in the maid's vagina by his soon-to-be ex-wife.

I grab my candy, throw it back in my sack and move the kids along.

"Daddy my wig is itchy!" Phoebe scratches at her head as we make our way down the sidewalk. Her wig? Try every inch of my body. It's so bad it's ceased to itch anymore, it's just numbed. "Here!" She pulls it off her head and hands the thing to me.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Holdy it it till I get the itchies out."

"Hey!" I hear a voice shouting angrily in the distance. I turn to see a man running my way, dressed in a white t-shirt, white jeans, white sneakers and two large cardboard pieces on each side of his body cut out in the shape of bread slices. What's he supposed to be? White toast?

"Are you talking to me?" He's coming right for me, so I assume he is.

"You destroyed my trail of light," he says, stopping in front of me, trying to look at me eye to eye, but his view only reaching Chewbacca's nipple.

"What?" I briefly wonder if he's a member of some religious cult all dressed in white, but I don't know of any religion that wears slices of bread.

"The grass nearly caught on fire! Lucky for you it was wet from the rain earlier or the whole neighborhood could be evacuating instead of having fun!" What in the hell is this man saying to me? Something tells me he doesn't know much about having fun.

"I think you're confused." Or certifiably psychotic. Although he doesn't seem physically dangerous, being that he stands 5'4" and weighs less than my banana loaf, I place my body in front of the children to shield them.

"You knocked over my bags!" He points to the ground and bag upon bag lining the lawns and driveways, candles illuminating the jack-o-lantern cut-outs from inside the paper. The last ten or twelve are knocked around on the grass and sidewalk, blown out wicks and sand scattered along the path.

"What is all this?"

"My luminaria. I spent five hours lining this path! Until your Sasquatch feet took them down."

"How do you know I did this?"

"There's sand and candle wax all over your paws." I look down. He's right, there is. And there's a black mark on my left foot. I think my toe was briefly on fire and I didn't realize it.

"What kind of idiot puts candles in bags of sand and lights them where children are walking?"

"The entire state of New Mexico at Christmas."

"Well, this is the state of Washington at Halloween!"

"Sir, perhaps we should move along," Taylor says, bumping my arm with the loaf.

"No Taylor. I'm not letting any man dressed in some sandwich getup intimidate me," I say, waving the Elsa wig in the air like a flag for my rights.

"I'm a fluffernutter!"

"Don't talk about your pornographic jobs in front of my children!"

"A fluffernutter is famous sandwich on the east coast," he says, rolling his eyes so far up in his head that I think they might get stuck in the missing gap in brain. This man has serious problems.

"You're big on what other state's do. Perhaps you should set up residence in one, light your shopping bags on fire elsewhere and leave Seattle to me."

"Perhaps I should light a sack full of something else and leave it in your car hood."

"Why, I-" I start to lunge. He's gone too far by threatening the R8.

"Sir, the children!" Fuck. Taylor's right. I can't fight with this idiot in front of them.

"Listen," I bite my tongue, brushing the fur down on my arms that got ruffled. "I'll watch my feet. Just get out of my face." I grab the banana bread out of Taylor's hands. "Here's a loaf for penance." I shove the thing at him.

He leaves, picking up the remnants of his lost bags along the way, and clutching his loaf like a lady love.

"Kids, I'm sorry about that. Daddy got a little angry. If Mommy asks, I was teaching you a valuable life lesson.- always fight for what you believe in-"

I turn around and they're gone!

"Oh my god! Taylor where are the children?!"

"I don't know, sir. They were there one minute ago!"

"You're supposed to watch them!"

"I was too busy watching you."

"Well, isn't that fucking romantic! Now, my kids are missing!"

My whole life is flashing before my eyes. I've never been so scared. How could I be such a terrible parent to take my eyes of my kids for even one second?! They could've been kidnapped! Or worse. If anything happens to them...

"Phoebe! Teddy!" I take off running with Taylor not far behind, screaming their names over and over at the top of my lungs. "Check their tracking devices, Taylor!" Thank God I have location detectors on my entire family at all times.

"They're not far, sir!" he says, reading his blackberry as he catches up to me. "Only half a mile."

"Half a mile?' I run faster. "How did they get that far?" What if they got picked up by a car? I'll kill the fucker!

Suddenly a large contingency of grade school superheroes come flying towards us, taking up the entire sidewalk and half the lawn, all carrying full sized chocolate bars in bright yellow wrappers. I wave my hands in the air, trying to tell them to get out of the way, so I don't knock them all down.

"Ahhhhhh!" Wonder Woman screams as I make my way toward the crowd. "There's a monster coming to eat us!" It takes me a second to realize she's talking about me.

They start shrieking and running in all different directions. I'm trying to avoid them, but once I dodge one in the west another comes flying at me from the east.

"Get him!" A little boy dressed as the Hulk picks up a luminaria bag and throws it at my leg. My left wookie shin bursts into flames.

"He's from hell!" a girl, ironically dressed as a little red devil, says, pointing to the flames coming from my fur. I knock my leg against a tree to try and put the fire out, but it doesn't work. The bark goes up in flames, too.

"Taylor, do something!" I yell. How do I put out a fire? I remember the lesson I taught the kids-' 'stop, drop and roll'. So, I do just that.

"Sir!" Taylor says, watching me as I roll in the grass. It's not working like the emergency card said it would.

He runs to the side of the house as my matted tufts and the old oak burn.

"Hey, that's my tree!" That fucker Hofsteader, who had the pending yellow background check, says as he runs from his house carrying a bowl of caramel apples. They're probably poisoned.

"My leg is on fire, who gives a fuck about your tree?"

"I do! It's historical!"

"Well, I don't want my leg to be!"

Just then, Taylor rounds the corner holding a long hose and sprays me, the tree and Hofsteader down, finally putting out the flames.

"You're gonna pay for my tree!" Hofsteader says. "And my apples!" He looks into his bowl at the runny caramel mess. I probably saved lives tonight by ruining them.

"I don't have time for your fucking tree or your wet apples! I need to find my children!"

"OOoooh, he said a bad word!" A little shit in a turtle suit shouts out from the kiddie crowd of onlookers.

I pull myself up from the ground and take off again. My smoking leg leaving a trail behind me.

"2017 Cedar Lane!" Taylor calls out as he follows me.

"What are you saying?"

"That's where they are!"

I run faster.

"Sir, the sign says "Don't walk!"

"What did you say?" I can barely hear him.

"Don't cross the street!" he says, as I do.

A Land Rover comes barreling into the intersection. I hold my arms up, caught in headlights. The woman screeches to a halt, but it's not quick enough. The fender knocks me down.

She gets out. "Oh my God! Did I hit a dog?"

"I'm the Beast!"

She screams as I stand up and start running again. Hell nor high water nor a little hit-and-run will stop me from getting to my kids.

"There's the house!" Taylor shouts. "The one at the top of the hill!"

"That's Dr. Reardon's house!" The family dentist. What the hell? Why would the kids run to the dentist?

And mine aren't the only ones. Swarms of children are making their way up and down the pathway to the house. All leaving with chocolate bars as big as their heads. It looks like something out of Pinocchio, where the kids were all lured to Pleasure Island with the promise of fun and candy and no parents or rules, but then got turned into work donkeys. Yes, I'm far too familiar with Disney movies these days.

I barrel up to the door, children screaming as I cut through the crowd, looking for my own.

"Teddy! Phoebe!"

"Daddy!" It's Teddy!

I turn. He and Phoebe are running up to me, carrying those giant yellow candy bars.

"Kids!" I take off my mask and fall to my knees on the porch steps, pulling them into my arms. I'm even happy to see Chester.

"You must never scare your father like that again!" I kiss their cheeks, holding them like I never want to let them go, because I never do. I won't even let go of them when they go to college. "Where did you run off to?"

"My friend Anthony Decosta ran by while you were fighting with that bread guy and said we had to get here before they all run out," Teddy says.

"What?"

"Dr. Rear-end's giving out the big chocolate!" Phoebe says, stuffing the bar into her face.

"It's Dr. Reardon. And don't say anything like that in public again." Odd... Dr. Reardon usually gives out toothbrushes and hands out cartoon cards about the evils of sugar. And now, he's giving out the most of anyone...

"Is that you, Mr. Grey?" I hear Reardon's voice calling from behind me.

I stand, holding my mask under my armpit, the Elsa wig in my hand and my sack on my wrist.

"You're late," he says. Why do I suddenly feel like I'm living the beginning of a horror movie?

"What do you mean, I'm late?" I ask, facing him. I jump when I see him. He's wearing Dracula fangs and his doctor's coat with his name and dental group address emblazoned on the the right side of his chest.

"Your cleaning. Six months and twenty-seven days tomorrow." What kind of weird fuck knows the history of my dental cleanings off the top of his head? Does he always speak so low? Should I be alarmed that my left foot has no feeling in it?

"Who taught time to fly?" I laugh.

"Not the tooth fairy." He doesn't.

"I'll have to get on that."

"You don't want it to get away from you, especially after a night like tonight. Sugar can work fast on enamel."

Is that some sort of a threat?

"You should check out our new offices. We've expanded." He hands me a glossy brochure with his picture on the cover, smiling brightly as he fills some poor kid's cavity. He's enjoying himself a little too much. "We've got state of the art new equipment. A waiting area with a tropical fish tank. Even televisions sets with cartoons for the kids to watch while I fill.

"This renovation must be costing you a lot."

"We're having to think creatively to make a few extra bucks." He laughs. "Would you like some chocolate, Mr. Grey?" He holds out a bar.

It suddenly hits me. He's thinking creatively with the neighborhood's children by stuffing candy in their faces in hopes that they get fresh cavities and have to see him for fillings in his new digs. What a sick fuck!

"I know your game, Reardon." I push the candy bar away.

"What game?" He pushes it back.

"Don't think my children are going to be used as pawns in you're schemes." I push it back into his hands and step away so he can't force his bar into my sack.

"Schemes? What schemes?" He has the audacity to look insulted as he continues to hold the bar.

"How many of those did you pass out tonight? Huh?"

"I don't know. It was something special I wanted to do for the kids."

"More like something special you wanted to do for your pockets."

"Excuse me?"

"What happened to the tooth brushes? And the floss? And the cartoon man with painful rotted teeth who warned against too much Halloween shenanigans?"

"No kids wanted to come to my house then."

"And now they're flocking here for your big chocolate!"

"Mr. Grey, I don't appreciate your attitude."

"And I don't appreciate your borderline criminal activity."

"Come along, kids." I take both of them by their gooey, chocolate covered hands and lead them down the hill, away from Dr. Evil.

"This kinda tastes funny, Daddy," Phoebe says.

"Yeah, but not ha-ha," Teddy adds.

"Let me see that." What has the man done to it?

I take the bar from my daughter and look at the wrapper. Fuck. I think I made an ass of myself... It's sugar free.

"Taylor, remind me to make an appointment for a cleaning on Monday."

"Yes, Mr. Grey."

"And kids, don't tell you're mother about any of this."

"Where are we going now, Daddy?" Teddy asks.

"The party at the school."

We just have to walk over a mile back to the SUV. As if things couldn't get worse, I look up. Fuck. It's starting to rain.

 ** _To be be completed in Part III..._**


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you staying for the apocalypse?" The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or rather Dan Lumis of Mockingbird Lane asks as we pass him on the sidewalk trying to make our way back to our car and escape the hell that is trick-or-treating. I'm muddy, soaking wet and my leg is still smoking from the fire. Staying for apocalypse? I think I already lived through it.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, not sure why I did, because I don't want to fucking know. The last time I asked Lumis anything I had a seventeen minute conversation about his hemorrhoids and how his wife left him. I'm not sure if there was a direct correlation or not. I would've left him, too, but it was Easter mass and I was already stuck to my pew with two kids dressed as bunnies.

"The zombies!" he shouts in a sing-song spooky voice, waving his arms around for dramatic effect. "They're coming this way. We all have to run for our lives!" He really takes this Halloween thing seriously. I still don't know what the fuck he's talking about.

"Daddy, let's stay for zombies!" Teddy says. "I want to see them eat all the brains."

"How do you know about that?"

"Uncle Elliot told me."

"So that's where his went." I laugh. I make a mental note to never leave Elliot unsupervised with Teddy again. Speaking of Elliot, I wonder what this surprise costume is he's wearing tonight. If he tries to steal my candy this time, I'll be ready. I've waited over twenty years for payback and tonight vengeance is mine.

"Sorry, we'll have to miss the brain eating," I say. "We have a party to get to. But, I'm sure there will be some zombies there." They won't even have to dress up. "Come along, kids."

"I'm gonna sit on the curb and wait for them," Dan says, actually sitting his ass on the curb. Appropriate, since his wife kicked him to there. I guess his hemorrhoids are under control now. "I'll keep a spot warm for you if you change your mind!" He waves.

"Have fun, Dan!" I wave back. Less bye-bye, more fuck-off.

I usher the children away and we continue our trek. I never knew how difficult it was to escape a suburban neighborhood. The light rain that started to fall is gaining weight by the second and so is the fur on this costume.

"Daddy, your son is getting all wet and grouchy," Phoebe says as I work to open her umbrella with my paws.

I look to Teddy who's twirling his own umbrella, playing hopscotch in the puddles.

"Teddy's fine," I say. "He's skipping."

"No, I'm not. I'm taking out snails!"

I shake my head. "Don't get snail guts on your shoes! Your mother will kill me!"

"Not Teddy, Daddy!" Phoebe says, blowing her bangs in sheer exasperation at my ignorance. "Your other son, Chester!" The little fur ball twitches his nose, presumably in hunt for a snack of my flesh. Why are some rodents considered pets who wear slippers and you spend holidays with and others you call the Orkin Man for?

"Chester's my son?" I ask. She nods. "I thought he was my brother." She nods. "Who's also a movie star?" She nods. "And who's his mommy?"

"Mommy."

"Last week she was his sister." She nods once more. I'm not sure how this family tree works. Does that make Chester his own father, his own son or me a real rat? Hollywood types are so fucked up.

"Help me with my handle, Taylor," I say, holding the disobedient rod in place.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"I just can't get the thing to pop off."

"Did you squeeze it gently in the middle?"

"I can't squeeze anything! My paws don't bend. I need you to squeeze it for me."

Taylor reaches over like an expert, gives it a firm-yet-gentle press and tug, and the thing explodes directly into his left eye.

"Sorry about that," I say. "I didn't realize that it would shoot that far."

"It happens, sir." He rubs his face.

"Brelly!" Phoebe yells as I hold the umbrella over her.

"Now my furry son is covered."

"He's getting hitted by the sideways rain now." Sideways rain? Daddy's getting hit head on.

"He's in a bathrobe. He's prepared for a shower."

Why are there so many people out in the streets all of a sudden? They're all congregating on the sidewalks, waiting for something to happen. We need to get out of here before anyone else recognizes us and tries to trap me into a conversation.

"Where did you park the car, Taylor?"

"Just around the bend, sir."

"You've been saying that for twenty-five minutes."

"It's a long bend."

We finally turn the corner and Taylor stops abruptly.

"Oh no," he says.

"Oh no, what?" I can't see what he's looking at, but it doesn't sound good.

"Oh no, that," he points.

Suddenly I see the 'oh no' he's 'oh-noing' about- flashing lights, a big truck and the wheels of my SUV being raised off the ground.

"A space ship is stealing our car!" Teddy says, excitedly.

"That's not a spaceship, that's a tow truck! Taylor, why did you park there?"

"You told me to. You had it marked on your map."

"That's not a reason." I look down to my children. "Kids, grab my paws!" They do and we take off.

"Hey!" I shout at the burly tow truck operator on approach. He's wearing a black hoodie with glow-in-the-dark skeleton bones on it, I assume for festive purposes, although from the looks of him it could be a regular thing. He's like the Grim Auto Reaper. "What are you doing with my Audi?"

"Loading up, Big Foot." He gives the signal to some other guy in the truck and the ass of my Audi is lifted so high in the air, she looks like a stripper on a hot Saturday night.

"What do you mean _loading up_? That's my car! Why are you towing it away?"

"The zombies are coming," he says, matter of factly. Why the fuck is everyone talking about the zombies?

"I'm scared, Daddy!" Phoebe says, grabbing onto my leg with all her limbs like she's a monkey on a tree trunk. Chester pokes his head out from the sack on her arm.

"Don't worry, baby," I pat her hair. "There are no such thing as zombies!"

"Dad, look," Teddy says, pointing down the road. "They're really here!"

"Who?" I turn to look.

"Zombies!"

Oh. My. God. It's a scene right out of Return of the Walking Dead or The Living Dead Die to Live Again or Housewives of Beverly Hills or whatever the fuck it's called. Hundreds of dead eyed flesh seeking zombies filling the road and coming our way. Men, women, children... Even a bulldog with a blood dripping skull around a name tag on his collar that reads: Burt. It's like they were just dropped by the bus load straight from hell or the Hot Topic store at the mall.

"Ahhhhhh!" Phoebe screams, holding tighter to my leg. "They're gonna eat my brains and Chester's for dessert!" Chester goes back into the bag.

"You don't have to worry," Teddy says to his sister. "You don't got any."

In an impressive ninja style move she keeps hold of my leg while she kicks Teddy hard on his.

"Ow!"

"Kids!"

I turn away from the apocolypse and back to Auto Reaper.

"What's going on here?" I ask, pulling Teddy away from the action he's trying to become a part of as the streets become more dead than alive.

"The Zombie Apocalypse," he says. "It's a parade that goes from eight to twelve." He hands me a flier from his pocket.

"It's the End of the World as We Know It," I read the glossy sheet. "Parade, Raffle Prizes and Costume Contests. Don't be Caught Dead Handed... And after the world has ended, clean up your trash." I give it back to him. "What does all this mean?"

"It means this street is closed, so you can't park here."

"There were no signs," I say. "You can't take my car without posting a sign."

He points to the sign.

"That's not a big enough one!"

Just then my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my hot pants. I try to reach for it, but my costume is making it impossible.

"Taylor! Reach into my pants!"

"What, sir?"

"My phone is going off. I can't get it with my paws."

He pats around. "Where is it?"

"The inside pocket."

"You mean actually inside the pants?"

"Yes!" He looks conflicted. "Don't worry there's fur and boning covering all my parts."

He reaches in and fumbles around a bit.

"Just grab it out of the pocket."

"I'm trying, but there's so much matted hair down here covering the opening." He feels around a little more. "Wait! I think I have it."

"That's not it!"

"Oh you're right," he says, alarmed. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Listen, I'd love to witness this little back seat romance," Auto Reaper says. "But, I have other parties to end early."

"I've got it!" Taylor pulls it out and hands it to me. It's Ana. I have to answer. Something could be wrong.

"Hold on a second," I tell the tow guy, motioning for him to halt operations until further notice. He ignores me and continues to motion for the other fucker inside the truck to continue with the theft of my vehicle.

"Press it!" I say to Taylor.

"Press what?"

"The answer button! My wookie fingers don't work with the sensors on the screen!"

He does.

"Ana!" I say, trying to balance the phone on my paw. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, actually I'm feeling better." She giggles all cute and girlish and if I wasn't frozen from the neck down, my cock would twitch. "I have a surprise for you when you get home." Okay, my cock is fighting against the freeze and much like the zombies, it's rising again.

"And I have a few for you." I'm starting to fantasize about Ana in that baby doll lingerie without the panties when I see my Audi being roughhoused. "They're marking my back end!" I whisper shout to Taylor as I watch the metal arms scratch my fender. "Do something!"

"Right away, sir."

Taylor rushes toward the tow truck like he's storming Normandy. I move the kids away from the vehicle in case it gets ugly.

"What's wrong with your back end?" Ana's voice echoes from the receiver. I lift it back to my ear. Fuck, I can't hide anything from her.

"Nothing! I said back _in_. We're just hurrying to the party so we can get back in time tonight for you to show me your surprise." Good save, Grey.

I look back. Taylor is talking with the guy now, but it doesn't look like peaceful negotiations are working. It's getting a little heated.

"You haven't gone to the party, yet?" Ana asks.

"No..."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Why not? Why the fuck not? I was on fire for awhile? The kids were missing? The zombies are having our car towed? "We've been having too much fun."

Taylor says something to Auto Reaper and motions with his hands. I've never seen Taylor so animated, except when they get his order wrong at the Chick-fil-A. Auto Reaper yells something, climbs back up into the truck and slams his door. Oh no, they're going to leave!

"Fuck."

"Did you just say _fuck_ in front of the kids?"

"They can't hear me."

"I heard you, Daddy," Teddy says.

"Me, too," Phoebe adds, shaking her finger up at me, still clinging to my leg. "Naughty, naughty!"

"It slipped. I'll take a time out when I get home." Please, God, let me get home and have a time out!

"What's going on there?"

"I don't know."

"Brains!" An un-dead woman says, passing by me.

There are more and more of them coming.

"What's that moaning?" Ana asks.

"What moaning?" Fuck, the zombies are making some sort of communal grunting noise. I never knew the living dead were so vocal and in unison. Is that natural or do they practice?

"I definitely heard moaning," Ana says. I can almost see her arms crossing and foot tapping on the other end.

"It's just the zombies."

"The what?"

"The zombies. It's Halloween. I'll explain later."

They're starting up the engine to the truck! Taylor's trying to open the fucker's door. Auto Reaper's yelling at him from the open window.

"Let me say hello to the kids," Ana says.

"Say hello, kids," I hold out the phone.

"Hello, kids," they say in unison, laughing. Regular comedians.

"Ana, we're in a hurry."

"Don't forget my cupcakes," she says.

Oh fuck. The cupcakes. They're in the car.

"Cupcakes. Good. Love you. Bye." I hang up.

"Taylor!" I say as he approaches in defeat. "What happened?"

"They're driving away with the car."

"I can see that! Why didn't you stop them?"

"I tried everything. He wouldn't budge."

"Did you try bribery?"

He nods.

"What's _brib-be-burry_ , Daddy?" Phoebe asks.

"Giving them a present, so they'll give you one on return."

"Like Christmas?" Teddy asks.

"Something like that."

I turn to Taylor.

"Watch the kids," I say, trying to peel Phoebe from my leg.

"No, Daddy!" She tries to cling. "The zombies is all around."

"Just for a minute, I have something important to do. Cling to Taylor's leg. The zombies are scared of him. He was trained against zombie attacks in the military." She hops from my shin to his.

"Hey!" I yell up to Auto Reaper, waving my arms and running after the truck as it pulls away from the curb.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Taylor calls after me.

"Getting my cupcakes!"

########

"Well, at least he gave you your cupcakes," Taylor says as we walk, carrying plastic Tupperware containers that hold 120 of them. And they're not little fluffy ones, either. Ana made them with thick ass chocolate and fillings. The skull and bat decorations alone must contain lead.

"Only because I jumped on the back of the truck." I had to jump off of it when he stopped for zombie crossing. Thankfully the entire lower half of my body is numb and I couldn't feel when my ass cracked the cement on the way down.

Phoebe is now firmly wrapped around my shin again as we walk. More and more zombies are coming through. I'm so fucking sick of zombies.

"Go back to your lives," I say to the pilgrimage of the graveyard risen as they pass.

"We can't!" one of them shouts. Fair point well made.

We walk and walk, until we finally round a corner to a street that actually allows cars and regular living creatures.

"Are we going to walk forever?" Teddy asks.

"Yes," I say.

The rain's coming down now hard. Phoebe keeps swinging her umbrella and hitting my shin. Every third step, I trip.

Suddenly out if the corner of my eye I see something crawling up my chest.

"Ahh!" I scream.

"What is it, sir?"

"There's a wild animal on me! Get it off!"

Taylor casually picks it off and holds it up for me to see.

"It's Chester, sir." Why doesn't the fucker try and bite him? What are they, besties?

"Sorry, Daddy. I letted him go," Phoebe says. "I only got so many hands." She slams her umbrella into my shin.

"I think we're past the zombies. Why don't you get off my leg and hold him?"

She looks around to check, then jumps off and grabs her rat.

"Sir, a car is coming to pick us up," Taylor says, checking his phone.

"Fantastic! When?"

"An hour."

"An hour? We can't wait that long! We'll miss the entire party!" And I'll probably have drowned by then.

"They're all backed up with Halloween. It's the fastest I can do. Unless I call Gail."

"No! I don't want Ana worrying!"

"I can't wait to tell Mommy all our adventures!" Teddy's says.

"You're not telling Mommy any of this."

"What if she asks?"

"Just stuff your mouth full of candy and give her a thumbs up."

Fuck. How are we going to get to that party on time? This night is a disaster. I don't think it's possible for it to get worse.

A car drives past us, stops abruptly ten feet before the stop sign, then backs up and stops directly in front of us. I shield the children as the tinted window of the electric blue Volkswagen Golf rolls down.

"Christian? Is that you?"

The voice is vaguely familiar, though I can't make out the face in the dark. It's a man and he's got a small head. I step closer and peek inside...

Oh. My. God. I spoke too soon. The fucking photographer.

"Jose?"

"It is you!"

"How did you ever recognize me?"

"I thought I saw the kids and Taylor. What are you doing out here? It's pouring rain." Really? I hadn't noticed.

"Trick-or-treating."

"Where's Ana?" he asks, far too concerned.

"She wasn't feeling well, so she stayed home."

"What's wrong with her?" He's nearly panicked. That's my job, fucker.

"Just a little sick to her stomach. She'll be fine."

"I'll have to call her."

"She can't talk."

"Is it her throat?"

"Yes."

"I thought it was her stomach."

"It's her throat by way of her stomach." He twists his brow in confusion, which is his perpetual state, only heightened. "Gastrointestinal, you know."

"Yeah, gas can hurt." Medical analysis by Mr. Rodriguez.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask. Probably driving up here to park outside our house and see if he can catch Ana undressing in the window or bending over in the garden. P is for photographer and pervert.

"I'm here for the Zombie Apocalypse." Figures. "I'm taking pictures."

"For work?"

"No, just for me. I love zombie stuff." What a weird fuck.

"Well, we won't hold you up if you want to find your friends."

"Uncle Jose!" Teddy yells, running up to the car. Phoebe is close behind.

"He's not really your Uncle, kids."

They ignore me and the 'Uncles' keep flying. Everyone's so fucking delighted to see Jose. Even Taylor waves at him like a schoolgirl.

"Having fun tonight?" he asks them.

"Yes!" I say. We're going to continue the festivities now. Let's go, kids."

"Daddy was on fire!" Teddy says. "And he almost hit the dentist!"

"Kids exaggerate so much," I say.

"And we got our car towed and now we're walking to school in the rain," Phoebe says.

"You're going to school now?" Jose asks.

"It's for a party," I say, trying to pull the children away, but they're like magnets to his window. "We're just waiting for our ride. It'll be along-"

"In an hour!" Taylor says. "We're desperately trying to find another way." He's practically begging.

"I could give you a ride right now," Jose says.

The kids cheer.

"We wouldn't dream of troubling you." I give Taylor a look to halt his theatrics.

"No trouble. I can come back."

"Please, let Uncle Jose take us, Daddy," Phoebe says.

"Yeah, please!" Teddy chimes in.

"Yes, please, sir," Taylor says. Since when did he become such a sap?

Fuck. It's the only way we're going to make it to the school party on time and I don't want the children standing in the rain and getting sick. Jose's going to be the hero of the night... He'll never let me live this down. I was definitely wrong. The night just got worse.

#######

"Still a Volkswagen man, I see," I say, my legs crushed into the glove compartment of this cheap piece of shit. I have to stick my head part way out the window because it won't fit all the way inside. I can't believe I'm riding shot gun to the photographer. I'd rather use another kind of shot gun right now on myself.

"Yeah, I've been selling my photos of the desert a lot, I figured I'd buy myself something real nice. So, my grandmother sold it to me." What is that little old lady, a dealer?

"The desert. Fascinating." I move the manual lever on the side of my chair to push my seat back.

"Ow!" Taylor yells. He's such a fucking titty baby tonight.

"I need some more leg room."

"But, you're backed up nearly all the way to my seat."

"You were in the military, you're used to tight spaces. Scrunch up."

"You saved our whole lives, Uncle Jose," Phoebe says.

"Our lives were not in danger," I say.

"Uncle Jose, your brother Chester wants to say thank you, too." She holds him up and waves his little hand.

"That is not his brother, that's my brother!" The car suddenly gets quiet. I realize I may have said that a little too angry and loud.

No Daddy, today he's your son."

"I was thinking I could come by while I'm here and take some new pictures of Ana and the kids."

"What about me?"

"I was thinking more Madonna and child style. Maybe in the meadow while we all have a picnic lunch when you're at work.

"I don't think so."

"Is she too sick?"

"No. She's feeling better already. I talked to her earlier and she says I have a big surprise waiting for me when I get home." I'm raising my brow, but unfortunately he can't see my face. It's difficult to send drifts out when you're wearing a Chewbacca mask.

"Is she giving you some of her candy, Daddy?" Phoebe asks.

"Yes," I say, pointedly to Jose. "Daddy's favorite kind."

The photographer frowns and turns his attention to the road. He doesn't talk to me the rest of the way. Mission accomplished.

########

"Bye Uncle Jose!" the kids wave, standing outside the car in front of the nursery school.

"Have fun, guys!" he says, then looks to me. "I'll give Ana a call tomorrow. Maybe I'll drop by. It's okay if you're at work." Fucker never quits!

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be home forever." I yell back. "Enjoy the Apocalypse!" I wave as he pulls away.

#######

I hate kids. I don't mean my kids. I love mine; they're everything to me along with Ana. No, I hate other people's kids, probably because they're just little versions of the other people. I correct myself; I hate people in general. I can practically count on my hands the ones that I actually like and most of them share my last name. I especially hate the people at this horny hippie mom ridden preschool. I survived the zombies, but I'm not so sure I can survive this Halloween party.

"Would you like me to hold your cupcakes, sir?" Taylor asks as we enter the lift. Not the elevator, the lift. The kind where you have to manually shut the door, throw a lever and hope you don't get caught between floors. I'm not sure why they haven't put a real elevator in this place. I spend $40,000 a year for the kids to color outside the lines and make macaroni jewelry. You'd think a portion of the proceeds could go to a decent elevator. But hey, what do I know.

"No, Taylor I can manage them myself," I say, balancing the boxes on my open paws. "You're in charge of this contraption and I'm in charge of the cupcakes."

Taylor cages us in, hitting the lever and we ascend slowly. So slowly. At the rate this thing moves we might get to the party by next Halloween, but probably not early.

"Why is my wig all wet and dirty?" Phoebe asks, attempting to put the thing back on her head.

"Because Taylor had to spray Daddy down when he was rolling around in the mud on fire."

"You're funny, Daddy!" she giggles. I wish I was kidding.

We finally reach _Kreative Kidz_. That's what the pre-school floor is called and that's what's scrawled on the side of the wall in some sort of paint that looks like a kid went to town with crayons. I briefly wonder how this is good for the children's reading skills to see both words spelled wrong immediately upon entry, but again I'm just the guy spending $40,000.

"Stop!" I yell out to Taylor. "We're passing it!"

He presses the lever and looks down.

"It just appears that way. We're not even with the floor, sir. We need to go a little farther up." He presses it again. We go marginally higher and then stop. "We went too far." He lowers the lever and we go down again. He repeats this process another six or 7,000 times. It's like water torture. And I've been tortured enough tonight already.

"Taylor, please!"

"It's particular, sir."

"Here, hold my cupcakes!" I say, putting the boxes in his arms. "Let me do that."

"I thought you were in charge of the cupcakes and I was in charge of the elevator."

"I'm playing a little game."

"What's it called?"

"Musical jobs!"

I take hold of the lever.

"Sir, you have to be gentle with it or-"

I throw the lever and the thing immediately drops a few feet in free-fall.

"Ahhh!" Phoebe screams bloody murder. She's so dramatic.

I throw it back and we immediately come to a grinding halt.

"Or that will happen, sir," Taylor says.

"Well, at least I got us moving somewhere!"

Although somewhere isn't really anywhere at all. I look out of the cage we're in. We're caught halfway between floors. I hit the lever again, but it won't budge.

"I think it's stuck!"

"There's a gorilla in the levitator!" says some kid dressed as a box with colored squares on it, pointing at me in cage of the lift as he runs over. "Are you from the zoo or the wilds?"

"That's not a gorilla!" Phoebe yells out, scrunching her nose against the bars and clenching a fist. "That's my Daddy!"

"Are you a Rubik's Cube?" I ask him.

"No, I'm the 80s," he says, pointing to his sneakers that have cardboard moons glued to them.

"What is that?"

"Moon walk shoes."

"Like Michael Jackson?"

"Who's that?"

"The King of Pop."

"Like soda?"

"No, like the white powder you put in cookies." He scrunches his nose. "Just moon walk down the hall and tell someone bigger than you we're in trouble."

"I know how to do it better!"

"Oh yeah, how?"

He presses a button and an alarm starts to sound.

"Fire drill!" he shouts.

And of course the sprinklers go off.

"Daddy, it's raining inside now!" Teddy says.

"It's like the dark clouds are following us everywhere!" Phoebe says.

"They are, Phoebe. They are."

"Everyone, back away!" That voice! It sounds like a pterodactyl in heat. Oh look, it is one! It's that awful woman whose name I always forget coming this way. The teacher who wears that perfume that smells like cockroach spray, but doesn't manage to keep her away. Tessa? Tammy? Too much Titty and Tummy?

"Hi, Miss Tilly," Phoebe and Teddy say in unison. Miss Tilly! That's her name.

"Mr. Grey," she says, approaching the cage. She's dressed as cat woman, but she's more hiss than meow. The leotard leaving nothing to the imagination that it should. "Are you trying to cause trouble tonight?" She wiggles her tail, almost taking little Mr. 80s out with the wide load swipe.

"Yes, I purposely locked us in here so you'd have to come rescue us," I say, sarcastically.

"Oh, Mr. Grey," she laughs, waving her hand in flirt. "Let me help you, pudding." Pudding? The thought of being her desert makes me ill.

She pops her tits out and presses a button on the outside panel. The alarm and sprinklers cease and the lift rises and levels out.

"Why couldn't you do that?" I ask Taylor.

He opens his mouth to say something, but wisely chooses not to. Instead, he opens the cage door.

"I like your kitty," she says as I exit.

"Excuse me?"

She points to the shrieking arched back black cat on my candy sack.

"Oh," What the fuck do I say to that? "He frightens easily."

"What do you think of mine?" She wiggles her whiskers and bats lashes that look like two spiders battled it out and died.

"I frighten easily, too."

"Ooh, you have the cupcakes!" an older lady who's either supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood's grandma or just herself says as she comes over.

"My wife made them," I say pointedly to Tilly. "Hers is the only cake I eat."

Tilly gets my drift and thankfully walks away.

"Where is Ana?" Riding Hood Granny asks.

"Mommy threw up fish guts all over the poop tank!" Teddy says.

"Teddy! It's not a poop tank! It's a toilet."

"Daddy said poop tank!" Phoebe squeals.

"Kids why don't you check out the cookie table!" Riding Hood Granny says to Phoebe and Teddy and they delightedly scamper off to stuff their faces with more sugar. At this rate they'll be asleep when they're in high school. "And why don't you two set up your display on the table at the back. Station 17."

"What do you mean set up our display? Don't we just put the boxes down and let the kids free-for-all?"

She laughs the kind of laugh that instills fear in an unprepared father's heart.

"For the contest."

"What contest?"

"The kids are judging their favorites. Basically how good the display looks and how good the cake tastes. Don't worry, Ana knew all about it. So, if these are her cupcakes, you'll be fine."

"That sounds simple enough."

She's right. Ana's done all the work. Her cupcakes are beautiful and the best I've ever tasted. Winning this thing should be a piece of cake... Literally.

#######

"Oh my god, Taylor," I say, opening the first box as we set up at the table.

"What is it, sir?" He looks and then gasps, holding a hand to his mouth. "Oh no."

"Oh fuck. Ana's going to kill me!"

The cupcakes are destroyed. I don't mean a bat nose has cracked off or a few are slightly smeared. I mean Cupcake Armageddon! The icing has completely slid off half of them and there's double on the other, but mostly it's just stuck to the lid. Spiders and pumpkins and skulls are broken and strewn about.

"Why is it wet at the bottom?" Taylor asks, pointing at the little river carrying sprinkles and bat wings away.

"I think that's rainwater."

"Maybe we should check the others. There are 120 of them."

"You're right, Taylor! They can't possibly all be destroyed."

We rush to open the other ones. They possibly all can be.

"How did this happen?" I ask.

"I think when you jumped off the truck."

"No, I don't mean how did this literally happen. I mean how did all this shit tonight happen?"

"Well, we got off on the wrong foot with the luminaria guy and then the kids went missing. It's a domino effect."

"It's a rhetorical question! I didn't mean for you to really answer it."

I look down at the carnage. The pumpkin frosting is on a lemon cupcake. A jack-o-lantern has no eyes. A witch's broomstick is floating away on the little river of death. It's so wrong there needs to be a new word for wrong and it sure as hell isn't right.

"We can't enter these in the contest, Taylor."

"We're already entered, sir. Slot 17!"

"Well, at least it's not slot 1."

"What does that mean?"

"We can hide in the back."

I pick up one that's split into two halves and grab a spoon from the buffet table behind us.

"Wait, maybe we can press them together with some icing. Like glue." I scrape icing off the lid, put it on one half and push the two together. "All the colors mixed look kind of swirly."

"Sir, you're getting fur all over the icing."

"Well you do it, then."

"They're too wet," he says, trying my technique. "They all fall apart."

Twin boys dressed as a piece of fried chicken and a waffle walk up and try to poke their heads in my boxes.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I'm a piece of chicken and my brother is a waffle," Chicken says.

"I can see that. What are you doing over here looking at my cakes?"

"We're judges."

Oh shit.

"Do you count as one vote or two?"

"Hey! We may be twins but we is separate people," Chicken says all pissy.

"I guess it's two then."

"Eww, what's that?" Waffle asks, leaning his head over the box.

"It looks like a fart if it was cupcakes," Chicken adds.

They start laughing. An idea comes to me.

"You wouldn't laugh if you knew what this really was."

"We wouldn't?" Waffle asks.

"Because if you did the zombies might get you, too!"

"Zommies?" Chicken asks.

I nod.

"And you know what this is?" I ask.

They shake their heads in fear.

"It's a cupcake version of the Zombie Apocalypse!"

"What does that mean?" Waffle asks, wide eyed.

"It means this was a normal, pretty cupcake-land where little children like you frolicked and ate sugar and then the zombies attacked and this is all that's left of civilization."

"Cool!" they say with saucer eyes in unison.

"Legend has it, if you eat from it you get zombie powers."

"Really?" Chicken asks.

I nod and they race to dig in.

"Good save, Mr. Grey."

"Let's just walk away, Taylor. Let's walk away."

#######

The party is in full swing. It's a sea of chatter. Kids dressed as everything from dinosaurs to superheroes to wicked witches like their mothers, all screaming at the top of their lungs, strung out on sugar and late bedtimes. Most of the mothers are dressed in inappropriate costumes that don't cover the places I don't want to see. I miss Ana.

"Your costume is cute," a woman in a French maid getup that looks more maid than French says, approaching me as I dip my ladle into the punch bowl. Taylor steps away for two seconds and these women smell fresh blood. I told him not to piss, but he insisted.

"Cute?" I'm soaking wet, dripping with mud and smell like a forest after a fire. "I'm the Beast!"

"Well, I could tell that across the room. You alone?"

"No," I say, filling my glass. "My punch is keeping me company."

She shakes her head and walks away. Why is this preschool suddenly a single's bar?

"Grey!" Walter Allen says, making his short, fat way over to me dressed like a monk. He sure as hell isn't that. More like screw every secretary you've ever had and only marry the ones you knock up. The latest mistake in Phoebe's pre-school class- Alan Allen. He thinks it's funny the kid has the same first and last name, but spelled differently. That boy is going to need serious therapy.

"Where's Ana?" he asks, far too interested in my wife's whereabouts.

"She's home sick."

"While the mice are away, the cat will play," he nudges me in the arm and shimmies a little.

I take a swig of punch, wishing I had brought a flask.

"It's when the cat's away, the mice will play," I say.

"Huh?" He's an idiot. He got lucky when he knocked up an heir to an aluminum siding fortune.

"Why would the cat play when the mice are away?" I ask.

"Because he's free to play with other new hot young mice."

I shake my head.

His kid, Alan Allen comes running our way dressed like the karate kid, swinging some large plastic machete and hitting me straight in the leg. If I wasn't a numb wookie it would hurt.

"Hey!" Walter yells, grabbing the weapon from the brat. "You keep that up, I'm gonna give you a spanking when we get home."

"You spank your children?" I ask, thoroughly appalled.

"You don't?"

"Of course not! I only do that with my wife."

Just then, Teddy runs up, out of breath.

"Dad! Dad!"

"What is it?"

"Phoebe's in a fight!"

"What do you mean?"

"She and Ava are ripping each other's dresses off."

"Ava? Your cousin Ava?"

He nods. I follow him outside to the sandboxes.

"You can't wear my dress!" Phoebe yells, pulling on Ava's skirt.

"I'm princess Elsa, not you!" Ava yells back, ripping a piece of netting off Phoebe's waist.

They're the best of friends until they're the worst of enemies.

"You don't even have real blonde hair. You gots a dirty wig!" Ava says, pulling Phoebe's wig off.

But, my little girl doesn't back down. She pulls Ava by her real hair and yanks it.

"Girls!" I yell, running to them.

"Fight, fight," some kids chant.

"Your dress is so cheap!" Phoebe says, ripping off a sleeve partway. "It tears without even scissors."

"Yours is the cheapest!" Ava says, ripping a piece of Phoebe's shirt. "And you have an ugly rat!"

"Back off from Chester!" Phoebe says, holding him close.

"Girls!" I yell again."Stop!"

The other children scatter. I'm not sure if it's because they fear getting in trouble or that a creature that looks like he fled the black lagoon is coming their way.

"Daddy, she's wearing my costume!" Phoebe says, whimpering.

"No, Uncle Christian, she's wearing mine!"

Both girls are crying now.

"Girls, you shouldn't fight over costumes. There can be two Elsas."

"There can?" Phoebe asks.

"Of course. You're both unique in your own ways."

"No we're not!" Ava says. "I'm a better one."

Phoebe swings. I catch her fist just in time.

"Phoebe do you love your cousin?"

She thinks about it.

"Mostly."

"Ava, do you love Phoebe?"

"When she isn't kooky."

Phoebe lunges. I hold her back.

"Girls, what's more important than silly Halloween costumes is that we're family and we love each other." Why do I sound like a sit-com Dad all of a sudden on a very special episode? "Now, hug and make up."

"But, Daddy-"

"Hug and make up."

They reluctantly do. I can see Phoebe's hand reaching to pull off the netting on Ava's back and I lift it away before she can.

"That right bro," I hear Elliot's voice from behind me. "Two of the same costume is cool."

I stand up and turn around. It's like what I'm seeing is in slow motion- brushed fur, blue tails, real black pants.

"The Beast..."

"Surprise, bro!"

He's the fucking Beast! And not a British Chewbacca one in hot pants like me, he's the real thing!

"Where did you get that costume?"

"That guy you told me about. Gunther?"

"Gunther Imperial?"

"Yeah, that's the guy."

"You took the last Beast!" Suddenly those memories of him stealing my candy come flooding back and all I can think of is revenge.

"Why you-" I lunge for him.

"Hey! Back off!"

We fall to the ground, wrestling. I tear the sleeve of his jacket. He rips out some of my fur. I can hear the kids clapping and giggling. They think this is fun, but this is war!

"You think you can steal my costume and get away with it?"

I yank his beard.

"I didn't steal anything!"

He punches my arm.

"Just like you never stole my candy!"

"What candy?"

"The great hold up of 1996!"

"You mean like this candy?" He reaches for my sack that's fallen to the ground.

"You wouldn't dare!" I wrestle him for it.

"Boys!" I hear a voice straight from Satan's lair. Kavanagh. "Stop it, both of you! Or I'll use the hose."

"You don't scare me, I've already been sprayed down tonight."

"Sir, what's going on?" Taylor yells, arriving at the scene.

"Redemption!"

"Boys stop! The children are watching!" Kate yells.

We both stop immediately. No matter how mad we are, we don't want the children to see this.

I look up and I'm about to apologize when I see it. Kate is Belle!

"You're wearing Ana's costume?" I point. "What, did you find out what we were going as and just press the copy button on the machine?"

Elliot and I are both trying to get to our feet, but it's impossible in these costumes to stand up by yourself.

"Where is Ana?" Kate asks.

"Mommy's sick," Teddy says.

"From that rotten sushi you made her eat," I add. I look to Taylor. "Help us up!"

After some effort, he pulls Elliot and I to our feet.

"What do you mean rotten sushi?"

"Your lunch today. That tuna roll made her sick."

"I shared the tuna roll and I'm not sick."

"She has a more delicate stomach than you." Satan is immune to poison.

"Daddy?" Phoebe says, tugging on my arm. I look down. "Do you love Uncle Elliot?"

"What?"

"I said, do you love Uncle Elliot?"

I think about it.

"Mostly."

"And Daddy," Ava says, tugging on Elliot. "Do you love Uncle Christian?"

He thinks about it.

"When he's not being kooky."

"Well, dresses aren't important, it's mostest important that we love each other as a family and share our costumes," Phoebe says, trying to repeat my words from earlier, but adding her own flair. "Hug you two brothers!"

Phoebe and Ava push us two Beasts together. We look at each other and reluctantly do so.

I notice that Elliot has candy in his pocket. I reach my hand in about to steal it when I feel Phoebe grab my paw and pull it away.

"Hey!" Riding Hood Granny yells out to us. "The winner of the contest is being announced." Oh God.

"Did you enter?" I ask Elliot.

"Nah, me and Kate don't cook." Figures.

We walk inside and three little girls dressed as cupcakes are standing behind a podium too tall for them about to announce the winner. I'm suddenly grateful they aren't announcing losers.

"The winner is..." The smallest one opens what's supposed to be an envelope, but is just a folded over napkin. "Some Bee's Apple Lips."

Everyone looks around. Who the hell is that? A caramel apple display?

Miss Tilly is asking Chicken and Waffle what they wrote down. They walk over to the table and pick up my box.

"Zombie Apocalypse," I scream. "That's us!" I say to Taylor. "We won!" I throw my paws in the air in victory.

And right there at that podium in front of my children, my family, Taylor and all the people I hate, I'm presented with a medal proclaiming me the winner of Halloween.

#######

"They're finally asleep," I say, stumbling into the master suite, heading straight for the bed and falling back onto it in an unceremonious thud. With all that sugar and excitement, it took three whole readings of Goodnight Moon before the kids said Good Night Dad.

"Where's your mask?" Ana asks, stroking my naked head. Not the one I had imagined she'd be stroking when I got home, but somehow in this moment this feels better.

"I gave it to Teddy to add to his trash collection." Facing the ceiling, I close my eyes. All I see are zombies and spiders and rain soaked wookie men running through a land of battered cupcakes. "Oh Ana, how many more years of trick-or-treating do I have left?"

"At least twelve."

"Twelve?" Is she crazy? I turn my head to look at her and it's an effort, believe me. "Phoebe and Teddy won't go door-to-door when they're sixteen and eighteen." I'll be hiding out at parties by then trying to thwart drinking and kissing... Oh god, maybe there is a fate worse than trick-or-treating.

"Don't you want to get out of your costume?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Why don't you?"

"I can't move."

She laughs.

"This isn't funny. I feel like I've been in battle." I'm not sure if I won or lost, but I definitely fought the war. "All I can say is, thank God we only have two kids."

She stops stroking my hair. Did I say something wrong? Is she going to be sick again?

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Much better, actually," she says, her voice soft.

"Good. Hopefully you've seen the last of it."

"Probably not," she sniffles. She's crying!

"Ana, what's wrong?" I put my paw to her chin and turn her face to me. "What is it, baby?"

"I have a surprise for you," she hiccups a sob.

"And it's upsetting?"

"Not for me. But I don't think you'll be into it."

I wipe her tears with the side of my paw.

"Don't cry. I'm just a little tired, but my troops can rally."

"Rally for what?"

"For sex."

"That's not your surprise."

Damn it.

She pulls out a box from the drawer of her nightstand and hands it to me.

"When you told me you had a surprise for me, I never thought it would be wrapped up in a box. Well, not this kind anyway."

"Just open it!"

I untie the bow, lift the lid off the package and remove the tissue paper. What I'm left with is a long white stick with a digital screen.

"Is it a thermometer?"

"Read the screen!" she points to the tiny digital monitor.

Two blue lines. My world stands still.

"Ana, is this what I think it is?"

She nods, hesitantly.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yes."

I look back at the screen and the two blue lines.

"With two boys?!"

"What?"

"The lines."

She shakes her head. I guess the blue lines don't represent that.

"How did this happen?"

"You know how!"

"No, I mean you're on birth control."

"Antibiotics."

"What?"

"For my ear infection six weeks ago. They can interact." Ana and I are the only two people more likely to get pregnant on birth control than off.

"Oh Ana," I sweep her into an embrace.

"You're not mad?" she asks, pulling back, breathless.

"Mad? I'm ecstatic!"

I can't stop planting kisses on her face.

"But, you said you only wanted two."

"That's before I knew we were having three." I kiss her again. "So it's not your sushi, it's your baby?"

"Our baby." she says and I kiss her again. "Your mother came over and when I told her the symptoms she had me take a test."

"My mother knows?"

She nods.

"Oh Mrs. Grey," I move my mouth to hers and deepen our kiss, not able to keep my paws off her. The only thing I want to do right now is make love to my wife- the love of my life, the mother of my children...

"Mommy, Daddy?" Teddy says, the door creaking open as he walks inside.

I jump off of his mother.

"What is it?" I ask, glad my erection is hidden in this thing.

"I can't sleep. Can I crawl in with you?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in your own bed?" I ask, hoping.

He shakes his head.

"Of course you can fall asleep with us," Ana says.

He run over, jumps on the bed and snuggles between us.

The door creaks again.

"Chester and I can't sleep," Phoebe says, walking into the room.

Damn the candy!

"Let me guess, you want to sleep with us?" I ask.

She nods and with a running leap makes her way onto the bed.

I look to Ana, our two kids and Chester separating us, but somehow I've never felt closer to her.

"Rain check, Mrs. Grey?"

"Definitely, Mr. Grey," she smiles.

And that Halloween night we fall asleep, just the six of us.

"Owwwww!" I scream in the dark.

"What is it, Christian?" Ana says, waking suddenly.

"Chester bit my neck!"


End file.
